


white thunder

by ErinNovelist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Desert, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Pre-Kerberos Mission, Roadtrips, Romance, Smiling Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinNovelist/pseuds/ErinNovelist
Summary: Keith's smiles are rare but beautiful. Shiro's been privy to many of them in the time they've known each other, but he's always desperate for more.





	white thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dylexa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylexa/gifts).



> written for @dylexa for the VLD Ship Exchange. They requested Sheith and I happily delivered. <3

On the southern tip of Alaska, between the blue-tipped ice and glistening Pacific waters, there’s a phenomenon known as white thunder. During the spring and summer months, calving glaciers hit the water like a gunshot, sudden and loud, and the sound seems to echo on for miles. It’s a rare sight to see. For the most part, you’d never know it happened unless you catch it at the right time, aside from the thundering roar that accompanies it.

If you aren’t looking until you hear the sound, then it’s already come and gone. You’ve missed your chance. 

Keith’s smiles are like white thunder, fleeting but impressive. If you don’t catch it at the right moment, you miss the impact, only hearing the reverberations. Shiro is quite appreciative that he’s been privy to as many smiles as he has because they truly are a remarkable work of nature. When the cosmos crafted Keith Kogane, his smiles must have had a dash of too much stardust—so brilliant and blinding—that it’s almost too much for one to witness. 

But Shiro is spoiled, having seen so many. Even though they’re rare, like the white thunder in the warmer months, he’s determined to make them a permanent fixture in his life. 

Keith’s had a hard life, and sometimes it’s difficult for him to find a reason to smile. Shiro knows more than enough about this past after two years of breaking down walls and getting close. It isn’t a hard conclusion to come by. One night, under the stars with a bottle of whiskey they’d nicked from Montgomery’s office, Shiro learned that Keith Kogane only has three things in his life: a knife left to him by his mother, the desperate ache for home, and the wonderment of what he’d done to make his father leave. 

So yes, Shiro reckons, there’s a reason that Keith doesn’t have much to smile about. 

Still, Shiro’s determined to change all that.

It happens on break in mid-March when the commanders and other professors are having their spring training, classes canceled for all cadets. In his final semester at the Galaxy Garrison, Shiro intends to make full use of his break, knowing that after graduation, he won’t see a day-off for a long while once the Kerberos mission commences. He packs a bag for a week—a bunch of MREs he’s swiped from storage, a couple changes of clothes, his first aid and survival kit—and shoves it into the large storage compartment on his hover bike. It’s everything he’ll need for a road trip into the desert. 

Making the long trek to Keith’s dormitory, Shiro flicks on the lights without ceremony, ignoring the muffled moans and groans from his friend, the roommate already gone home. 

“Pack a bag and meet me in the hangar,” he announces as he pushes open the closet, digging around until he finds Keith’s duffel. With a single glance back, he throws the bag at the mop of dark, tousled hair peeking out from underneath the mouth of blankets.

“What the fuck are you on?” Keith moans into his pillow.

“We’ve got places to be, things to see.” Shiro shrugs and crosses his arms against his chest. “You’re wasting precious daylight.”

Purple eyes narrow, contempt burning as they lock on him. “It’s break.” 

Shiro simply flashes Keith an easy smile, leaning back against the door frame. “Exactly. So what d’you think about getting out of here?” 

Brows furrowed in confusion, Keith props himself up his elbow, fastening Shiro with a quizzical expression. “What do you have planned _exactly_?” 

“A road trip. We’ll be gone for a couple days, maybe a week, but pack light.” 

Keith brightens immediately, lips curling into a ghost of a smile, and Shiro’s heart pangs in his chest. _Almost_ , he thinks, _almost there._ Slipping out of bed, Keith makes a beeline for his closet to change, and Shiro heads for the hangar. Fifteen minutes later, one cadet joins him with that ratty, old duffle bag, his familiar red jacket, and a knife strapped to his low back. 

“Where are we going?” Keith asks as Shiro shoves his bag in the compartment with the rest of his supplies. 

Shiro snorts and jumps onto the bike, offering the younger man a hand up. “What? You don’t trust me?” 

“Shiro,” Keith deadpans, settling behind him. “You may be an excellent pilot, but you’re shit at navigating.”

Shiro sputters indignantly at the statement, so matter-of-fact as a shot in the dark, that it takes hold and buries in the soft space beneath his ribs. “I’ll have you know that I aced that final.” 

“Yeah, after I _tutored_ you.” Keith snorts. “I know what you’re like with five Red Bulls and caffeine pills. The only reason you passed that final is because of dumb luck and an uncanny talent for cramming.” 

Cheeks flushing red, Shiro whips his head towards the hangar entrance. He twists the key in the ignition, and the steady thrum of the engine sparks to life beneath them. Warm hands slip around his waist, finding purchase in the fabric of his shirt, and Shiro realizes that he doesn’t need Zero G to feel weightless.

He guns the engine, jolting the bike forward, and they tear out of the hangar without helmets, much to the protest of a few bystanders milling around the area. It doesn’t matter though.  Neither look back, eyes only trained on the wide open desert before them. 

It isn’t until they’ve left the premises of the Garrison that Shiro casts a sideways glance over his shoulder to look at Keith. “You doing alright?” he calls out with a laugh, nearly lost in the wind whipping past. 

“I know you can go faster than this,” Keith snipes back. His lips are screwed up in a tight smirk, but it isn’t enough. 

 _Almost_ , Shiro thinks to himself, _almost_. 

He presses on the accelerator.

Keith’s _whoop!_ echoes on for miles.

(The sound of ice hitting the water is louder.)

  

*

 

The next night, they’re in the desert shack miles from the Garrison, the stars are bright and the moon dances just above the cliffs along the horizon. 

“You still awake?” Shiro whispers from the folds of his sleeping bag, eyes trained on the glow of the moon through the dirt-caked glass of the only window.

Keith’s answering groan is answer enough. He’s laying out on the couch, knees thrown over the arm as his feet bounce off the worn leather to a beat Shiro can’t place. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asks in return.

Shiro snorts. “Why? I’ve got nowhere important to be tomorrow.” _Except with you_ , is what he doesn’t say.

There’s silence between them that stretches on and on, like the distance from the sun to Pluto, measurable in miles but infinite in moments. Only the sound of their heartbeats and desert life fills it. In the spaces between it all, Shiro recalls certain facts he knows to be truth: it takes three months to get to Kerberos, his best friend will be alone for nearly half a year, and loneliness is a permanent fixture in Keith Kogane’s life—even more constant than his smiles.

“Why did you take me out here?” Keith asks suddenly, interrupting the stillness. The question is like a firecracker, loud and blinding, catching Shiro off guard and leaving a black-smeared burn in its wake. “I thought you were going to see your family.”

Shiro turns away from the window, fixing the other cadet with a heavy stare. Keith looks back at him in the dark, and even though the question was spoken softly, there’s nothing but a hardness burning bright in Keith’s eyes.

“I am with my family,” Shiro says like it’s a fact he knows to be truth.

He ducks his head after the words slip out, cheeks red at the emotion that falls from his tongue as fluid and easy as a waterfall. He never tries to take them back though because he knows how much Keith needs to hear it, knows how long ago he should’ve said them. Everyone should be reminded of how important they are to others every once in a while. 

With Keith, they’re long overdue. If there’s one thing Shiro wants for Keith while he’s gone, it’s that he never has to learn how to be alone. And even if Shiro is gone, that somehow his shadow will be enough.

When Shiro finally gathers the courage to look at Keith, the moment has passed, but the younger man is still staring at him. 

The ghost of a smile lingers in the lines of Keith’s face. The sound of white thunder echoes in the corners of Shiro’s mind.

 

 

*

 

When Shiro first met Keith, the younger man was like a supernova—a brilliant sight to behold but only worth that. Just a spectacle you watched once. Oh, how wrong he was. It’s years later, and Shiro was at least right about one thing: Keith is certainly a star, but he was never meant to burn, only to shine. It’d been quite the battle to tame the first-year cadet into someone he calls a friend, but it was worth it. 

From his spot atop the roof, he watches his best friend finger the string of the binoculars, squinting into the nebula of pinks and purples of the morning sunrise. 

“You don’t get to see this at the Garrison,” Keith mutters under his breath. Iverson is too fond of early training and morning wake-up calls to allow the students time to admire the sunrise. The windowless dorm rooms certainly have their drawbacks. 

“Unless you sneak onto the roof before breakfast,” Shiro taunts because he’s an upper classman and knows things, like the secrets to life or how to pick the lock of the rooftop entrance. “I do it every day.” 

Keith fixes him with a curious stare. “You never told me that.” He almost sounds insulted, and Shiro can’t exactly blame him. He’s always shared things with Keith, whether it’s the last bit of pudding in the cafeteria or successful strategies to implement in flight training. 

The sunrise, though, that’s always been a heavily guarded secret of Shiro’s, a getaway he found amidst the pressure of rankings and expectations. It’s something he’s never been ready to part with, but now that he’s leaving for Kerberos in just a few weeks, he figures that it’s time for Keith to learn it all. At least someone will put his secret to good use while he’s gone. 

(And when he comes back, they can share it. It’s what they do.) 

Shiro simply shrugs. “I’ll show you when we get back,” he promises. 

Instead of a smile, Keith merely ducks his head in agreement, satisfied by Shiro’s words. It scares him sometimes just how easily Keith will accept him at face-value, even though he’s fought long and hard to get the younger man to trust him. 

Perhaps, all Shiro would need to do is ask, and he’d get a smile.

But that’s not the way he wants to go about things.

The sun burns along the horizon, the sky stained with morning light, as Shiro watches another star rise beside him. 

He can’t tell which is brighter.

 

*

 

The rock is rough beneath his fingers as Shiro struggles to find a hold to pull himself further up the cliff side. High above, Keith sits at the very top of the precipice, swinging his legs easily through the air, heels bouncing off the ground and causing bits of dirt to crumble and fall into Shiro’s face. 

“You mind?” he snaps, eyes flashing wildly. 

A smirk greets his icy glare, but not the one he’s been looking for. “Don’t tell me you’ve reached your limit, old man,” Keith says from his position. His own eyes burn with unbridled mirth. “I don’t want to have to tell Commander Iverson that his precious ‘Golden Boy’ washed out right before Kerberos.”

“If I had some rope,” Shiro says between heavy gasps as he tries to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. “Maybe it’d be easier.”

“I’m not the one who forgot to pack it,” Keith snipes. “Besides, there won’t be any rope on the moon. Pretty sure Pluto might be fresh out too.”

“I’m going to Kerberos to fly, not climb. I don’t need to know how to mountain climb in space.” Shiro pulls himself up another level, knowing that even if he did slip, it isn’t more than a ten-foot drop, and he’d probably survive it just fine. 

(Probably.) 

“I’d like to see you tell that to Professor Montgomery’s face,” Keith says and leans back on his hands, fixing an easy smile towards the wide blue sky above them. Shiro’s too busy trying to find the next foothold to notice. “You know how important preparation is for him.”

“I’d rather die,” Shiro tells him with a resolute expression. “At least that’s easy to do in space.” 

Suddenly, the air turns heavy, a tension settling over the two. They slip into it by habit, already familiar with shouldering the weight that the fear of the future brings—not knowing what would happen tomorrow, next week, a month from now, or even a year. The fact of the matter is that Shiro is leaving for the edge of the solar system in a few weeks, and Keith is going to be left alone back on Earth. For two people locked in each other’s gravity like a binary star system, separation is one of the hardest things they’ll have to face.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Keith tells him for the third time that afternoon, and Shiro isn’t sure if he’s talking about the mission or the climb. Either way, Shiro has his work cut out for him. 

“Of course,” Shiro says, and he knows it’s the one promise he’ll keep to his dying day. 

Keith’s lips press into a thin line, a haunting acceptance brewing behind stormy purple eyes. 

When Shiro finally reaches the top a few minutes later, he collapses with shaking arms and legs onto the dirt. The wind whips loosened sand up into the air, dispersing it between them and coating their already dirt-stained clothing and sweat-tangled hair. 

“You’re a mess,” Keith says as he shakes his head.

“But I’m _your_ mess,” Shiro mumbles into the ground.

Keith’s laughter is low and dry, sparking a flame deep beneath Shiro’s ribs. He wishes he could have seen it, but his face is buried in the sand, exhaustion thrumming through him as easily as blood. 

He hears it though.

Sometimes that’s all you need.

  

*

 

“You ready?” 

The hover bike thrums beneath them as Keith revs the engine, adjusting his positon on the back of the bike. Shiro sits behind him, arms looped loose around his best friend’s waist, and stares out at the wide expanse of desert before them. It’s been five days out here—just the sun, the sand, and the two of them—and somehow, Shiro still hasn’t seen Keith smile.

He feels like a failure. 

This—letting Keith drive his hover bike—is the last-ditch effort before he’s ready to throw in the towel. 

“I was born ready,” Keith snaps, his eyes glittering. It reminds Shiro of stars, and for a moment, he has to look away. 

“Alright,” Shiro says, and his cheeks burn as joy bubbles in the pit of his stomach. He leans forward, pointing towards the controls on the bike. “Gas on your right, brakes on your right. Hand brakes on the outside, boosters near the middle. Got it?” He cocks his head and fixes the younger man with a bright smile, knowing that Keith could fly circles around him and probably picked up the controls on the way here.

“You don’t need to explain it twice.”

He guns the engine, turns the boosters on, and jerks the hover bike forward. Shiro tangles his fingers in the thin fabric of Keith’s shirt, nestles his face against the back of his neck where short strands of hair tickles his nose, and breathes in the scent of leather. They zoom across the desert for the next hour, taking easy turns between dunes and climbing cliff sides, until Shiro’s wind-kissed cheeks are warm, and he’s choking on the dust from the sandy roads. 

“You’re exceptional,” is all Shiro can shout above the roar of the engine. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Keith says and turns around, the sun’s glow hanging above his head like a halo, and he— _oh_!

He’s smiling. Keith is _smiling_.

The ice hits the water, and the sound hits Shiro’s ears.

The corners of his lips have twisted up and up, and he smiles wide for Shiro to see. There’s a lurch in Shiro’s chest as his heart thuds heavily against his ribcage. Suddenly, the skin of Keith’s neck is too hot and the sun is too bright, and Shiro turns to ash beneath them both. 

“Your smile’s beautiful.” The words slip out before he can stop them, before he can even register them, but he won’t take them back. Again, there’s certain things that Keith needs to hear, that someone should’ve told him a long itme ago. 

“…Thanks,” Keith says, and his smile turns shy. But it’s still there, and Shiro can’t get enough of it. “Yours is pretty great too, I guess.”

Shiro cocks his head, gaze turning long and thoughtful. “You should smile more. I like it when you do.”

This makes Keith laugh, and it’s loud and bubbly, and Shiro feels like he’s walking on air. “That shouldn’t be a problem. You make it easy.”

More ice hits the water. The glacier in Shiro’s heart is growing smaller. 

In the distance, a storm is brewing. Gray clouds hang heavy on the horizon, and the summer rainstorm in Keith’s eyes traces them uncertainly before meeting Shiro’s. “It’s gonna rain soon.”

“So?” 

“Maybe we should head back?” 

Shiro tightens his grip on Keith, pulls him against the length of his body and presses his face into the crook of the younger man’s neck, and they sit in silence on the hover bike atop the hill they’ve stopped at. “Why?” he asks softly against the light breeze and Keith’s skin. “We’ve got nowhere important to be.”

In the distance, there’s thunder. 

Keith hasn’t stopped smiling.

(Shiro’s in love.)


End file.
